


Better

by LessonsFromMoths



Series: Sterek All The Time (lots of one shots) [26]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Caretaker Stiles Stilinski, Cute, Derek Has a Pack, Derek is a Good Alpha, Derek isn't broken, Fluff, IT'S REAL, M/M, Sick Derek, Sick Fic, Werewolf flu, Werewolves, but still, graphic depictions of illness?, is that a tag?, just kinda cute, like not too bad, no real romance, there are more pack members they just didnt make it into the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 14:49:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18671869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LessonsFromMoths/pseuds/LessonsFromMoths
Summary: When Derek and Cora get back from visiting another pack, something seems a little...off.AKA Derek gets the werewolf flu and Stiles takes care of him oops





	Better

**Author's Note:**

> ayyy I wrote another sick fic instead of studying for my final exams (which are in four hours dammit). Also I have so many unfinished fics and then I just churn out this nonsense in two hours because I can?? What?? Who am I???
> 
> So there really isn't a big "omg-we-belong-together" moment bc i thought subtle was more their style. Anyways, enjoy!

Stiles was standing in Derek’s kitchen, making spaghetti and rugelach as the pack filtered into the house, chatting away. Stiles loved Sundays. He would usually get to Derek’s early and make dinner, even when Derek wasn’t home, and Derek kept the fridges and pantries stocked with anything Stiles might want. So he cooked, they ate, Derek usually did dishes after dinner with the help of one unlucky pack member, and then they got down to pack business before it eventually devolved into a lot of cuddling and scenting and usually a movie or two. 

“Whatcha makin’?” Erica came bouncing up behind him, and Stiles stepped aside. “Rugelach!” She exclaimed, bouncing a little on her toes. “You do love us!”

“When was that ever in doubt?” Stiles grumbled, but still hugged her back when she enveloped him in her arms. 

“Boyd’ll be here in a few minutes to offer his help!” She breezed away, socializing with people in the living room. The floor plan was pretty open, where Stiles could see the front door and hear conversation in the living room flowing freely, and it made him content to be there.

Derek’s home was easily the cutest thing Stiles had ever seen. He had decided to level the Hale house and sell half of the preserve, then use the money to buy a modern four-bedroom home with two floors and an unfinished basement. Cora was completely on board, and got herself a nice apartment on the west side of town. The pack loved spending time at Derek’s, though. Since moving out of all his creepy bachelor pads, he had acquired a taste for the comfiest furniture and softest rugs, and his kitchen appliances were stellar, even though he himself didn’t really cook. The extra bedrooms served as guest rooms to anyone who might need to stay the night, and Derek’s king bed was big enough for all of them to collapse in after full moons. 

It really was a home, and Stiles never missed the content, almost manically happy smiles Derek would get on his face when he thought no one was looking as he watched the entire pack settle into his place, mixing their scents with his.

Boyd came in through the front door and immediately went to Stiles’s side, looking interested. “Need any help?” He asked, like he always did.

“Only if you’ve suddenly gained culinary skills,” Stiles answered back, giving Boyd his usual quip. Boyd rolled his eyes, but didn’t leave.

“When will Derek be back?” Isaac complained, entering the kitchen. 

“Soon. Cora texted me and said they were about ten minutes away.”

“When did she text you that?” Isaac pestered.

Stiles sighed. “Fifteen minutes ago.” 

Suddenly he perked up. “They’re here!” He bounded away, ready to greet his alpha after almost an entire week away. It hadn’t exactly been hard -- their pack was strong enough that Derek being away for a little while doesn’t have much of a power impact on them, but they’ve all missed getting hugs and attention from their alpha.

They entered the house, Cora first, then Derek, holding their bags and other goodies, which Stiles guessed were probably gifts from the Johnson pack. 

Boyd bristled beside him, and Stiles turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Derek smells weird,” he responded, then started walking to his alpha to join the rest of the pack, who were surrounding him like ducklings. Stiles looked at Derek and realized there was... _a mask on his face?_ He had a surgical mask covering his nose and mouth, but Stiles could see the happiness in his eyes as he greeted his betas, putting his things down so he could scent-mark them after the time apart. After more scrutiny, Stiles could see how exhausted Derek looked, and if he didn’t know better, he would guess that the ‘wolf was sick.

Stiles left the noodles to boil and the sauce to simmer as he made his way over to the gaggle of betas, pushing his way through so he could get thoroughly scented. There was a smile in Derek’s eyes as he pressed his hand to the back of Stiles’s neck, and Stiles could hear him inhaling. “How you doing, big guy?” He asked, and the look in Derek’s eyes said they’d talk later.

“Fine,” he answered instead, and Stiles turned back to help Cora with her bags. 

“What’s up with him?” He asked, well aware that Derek was probably listening to their conversation. They took the bags to the stairs, setting them down to worry about later.

“He thinks he’s getting sick,” she rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t want the betas to catch it like the dad he is.” 

“Getting sick?” Stiles asked. “Pardon if this sounds dumb, but isn’t that like the whole point of werewolves? You can’t get sick?”

Cora snorted, baring her fangs slightly. They were still working on her pack etiquette. “That’s what you humans use it for.” She sighed. “No, dumbass. There’s supernatural viruses too. They just aren’t as common. I don’t think I’ve been sick since I was really young, and I plan to keep it that way.” She sent a cautionary look towards Derek, who was looking a little embarrassed. 

Stiles nodded. Interesting. He’d have to add that to the bestiary. He reminded himself to ask Derek when the alpha was feeling better. He checked on the noodles to find them done, tossed some dressing into the salad, and declared dinner ready. Immediately, the sea of ‘wolves unleashed upon him, and he slipped out of the kitchen momentarily as they filled their plates. He noticed Derek sitting on the couch, head in his hands. He sat next to him. “Hey, how you doin’?” He asked.

Derek and him had always had a rocky relationship, but once Derek stopped pushing him into walls and shoving his face into steering wheels, he realized that Stiles was actually awesome. Okay, maybe not exactly that, but he found out Stiles was useful, and offered in an official position in the pack, even though they both knew it was a courtesy. Stiles was part of Derek’s pack before Scott ever was. Over the years, Derek had become an increasingly better alpha by opening up and sharing his feelings. Stiles had come to realize that Derek would usually be honest with him, and tell him when he thought a plan was bad, when one of the betas was having a problem, or when he didn’t know what to do. Stiles always listened, giving vague advice and encouragement. It seemed to really work for them. 

Derek lifted his head. “Sorry. I’m fine.” Stiles gave him a look. “My head’s just pounding. I’m waiting for it to stop,” he admitted. That was another thing. Derek actually admitted to his feelings sometimes. It was kinda awesome.

“Do you want some food?” Stiles asked, jerking his head in the direction of the kitchen, where they could both hear the betas having excited conversation. 

He shook his head, winced, then put it back in his hands. “Not too hungry. I’ll just sit here for a little longer.”

Stiles resisted the urge to put a comforting hand on Derek’s back. He still wasn’t sure if that would be welcomed. “Do you want me to call tonight off? We eat and go home?”

“No,” Derek said quietly. “We still need to tell you guys about the Johnson pack.”

“That can wait, you know it can.” 

“We’re all here. We’ll do it tonight.” Stiles watched Derek for a moment longer before nodding in confirmation and rejoining the rest of the pack in the kitchen, making himself a plate and digging in. About when they were finishing, the rugelach was ready to be transferred to the oven, so Stiles did so, then ushered the pack into the living room. Derek sat in his chair as usual, but didn't let any of the betas sit up there with him. 

He and Cora alternated talking about the Johnson pack, mentioning how well the alliance was holding and how kind they were. They also talked about other possible alliances, the new training techniques they’d all be trying, and they even had a flash drive with the other pack’s bestiary on it, just so Stiles and Lydia could peruse it all. By the end of an hour, everyone’s bellies were filled with spaghetti and rugelach and Derek’s voice was getting too raw to speak anymore. Even Scott -- oblivious as he usually was -- managed to look concerned. Everyone left not long after that, Stiles sticking behind a little to clean up the dinner mess. He decided to leave the dishes to soak, if need be he’d come back later, and he said goodbye to Cora and Derek with a quick, “Feel better,” and a flick of his fingers. When he got home he immediately plugged the flash drive into his computer and pursued the files until he passed out at his desk.

 

 

Stiles jerked awake at the sound of his ringtone going off, and he slid his phone out from under his cheek, squinting at it. He wiped some drool from it before answering. “Hello?”

“Hey Stiles. Will you do me a favor and go check on Derek? He texted us all last night to stay away from his place until he told us, but he’s not answering his phone and I’m a little worried,” Cora’s voice came filtering through the cell. Stiles wasn’t awake enough to make a joke about her having a heart, so he just agreed and started putting new clothes on. “I called you because humans can’t get magical viruses, so technically he can’t be mad that you’re there.”

“I’ll let you know,” he said before hanging up, pulling his shirt off before tugging another on. He packed his backpack, intending on dropping by Derek’s house and then going to the library so he could compare the bestiaries more in depth, and hopefully without falling asleep.

When he got to Derek’s house he let himself in with his key, figuring that Derek heard his jeep. “Derek?” He called as he entered the house. “Cora sent me! How are you doing?” He didn’t hear a response back so he did a quick check of the downstairs before heading up, where the bedrooms were. “Derek?” He called again. Derek’s bedroom door was shut, so he lightly rapped on it. “Derek, if you don’t answer me I’m going to come in.” He listened for a second, and when no response came he pushed the door open. Derek’s usually well-made bed had a twisted mass of blankets on it, but was missing Derek. 

Stiles turned to the connected bathroom, which had its shower light on if the dimness was any indication, and Stiles wasted no time pushing it open, too. He saw Derek lying on the floor, his brow furrowed, and a layer of sweat covering his entire body. “Derek?” Stiles asked timidly. In this position, he almost looked...dead. Stiles kneeled next to him, pressing a hand to his forehead. It was dangerously hot, and Stiles pulled away. 

At the touch, Derek opened his eyes blearily, unable to focus them immediately. He tried inhaling, but it seemed like his nose stopped working. “Stiles?” He asked roughly, wiping at his eyes. 

“Hey, big guy. What are you doing on the bathroom floor?” Derek’s eyes focused a little more, but he still looked far away as he rubbed a tired hand over his face. Suddenly, his entire body went stiff and his eyes looked sharp. He pushed Stiles into the wall and shoved his way past him. “Wha-?” Stiles started, but then realized that he had been in the way of the toilet. Derek shoved his face into the bowl, making some of the worst retching noises Stiles had ever heard. He sounded completely pained, his back muscles tensed and his fingers white with the grip they held on the toilet. 

Stiles didn’t even hesitate, he immediately pulled himself next to the werewolf, rubbing circles between his shoulders with his hand. Derek’s shirt was completely soaked through with sweat, and he was shivering as he gasped for air in the small respite between heaves. Stiles winced at the sound of vomit splashing on water, but continued rubbing Derek’s back, trying to breathe through his mouth. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Derek stopped. He reached up and flushed the toilet, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before collapsing into a sitting position, catching his breath.

“How long have you been throwing up?” Stiles asked. Derek shrugged. “Derek, I need an answer.”

“Since you left,” he said, voice raw. “It should end soon.” He groaned and held his stomach, waiting for the nausea to pass before looking at Stiles again. “I’m fine.”

Stiles snorted, standing. “I’m going to get you a new shirt. You look cold.”

“I’m not --” Derek said, then realized he had been shivering. He silenced himself, hugging his knees to his chest.

“Be right back.” Stiles texted Cora that he had it under control, but to keep the betas away. Then he went downstairs and grabbed a big glass and filled it with water. He took out another one of Derek’s endless white tshirts and brought that and the water into the bathroom, where Derek was kneeling over the toilet again, looking resigned. 

Stiles put the shirt and cup down next to the sink and kneeled beside Derek again. “I hate being sick,” he groaned, gasping for air as he readied himself. Stiles rubbed rough circles in his back as he vomited again, and Stiles wondered how he still had anything to throw up left in his stomach. They sat there for a while, Derek with his forehead pressed against the top of the toilet bowl, feet braced against the wall behind him, before he started again. As if to answer Stiles’s question, he was just dry heaving now, managing to get up a little bile but nothing else. He gasped for air some more before going limp, twisting to sit back on the floor. He uncoordinatedly grabbed some toilet paper and blew his nose, wiping away as much as he could before throwing it unceremoniously in the toilet. Stiles flushed that and the rest of his sick away and grabbed the water.

“Here,” he handed it to Derek, and Derek glared at it mistrustfully. “You have to be beyond dehydrated, Der. Sip some.” Derek took the glass and sipped a little before setting it down and slowly taking his shirt off. 

“You brought one?” He asked, and Stiles handed him the fresh shirt. Derek slipped it on, sighing a little before leaning back against the sink base and closing his eyes.

“Do you want to sleep in your bed?” Stiles asked. 

Derek’s brow furrowed. “But what if?” He opened his eyes slightly, glancing at the toilet.

Stiles shrugged. “We’ll keep a trash can by your bedside. C’mon.” Stiles stood up and held a hand out. Derek looked at it vaguely, then groaned and closed his eyes again. Stiles sighed. “Come on, big guy. You’ll like your bed so much better than the bathroom floor.” He crouched down and nudged his shoulder under Derek’s, then slowly pulled him up. Derek, to his credit, looked like he was trying to help.

“Dizzy,” Derek murmured, so softly Stiles almost missed it. His breath smelled like vomit. 

“Come on, almost there.” Stiles and Derek made slow progress, even though it was only about twenty steps to his bed. Once they got there, Derek collapsed, not seeming to care that his face was directly in the pillow. “Okay, as comfy as that looks let’s turn you on your side,” Stiles said lightly. Derek groaned but did it anyway. He seemed to be getting less lucid by the second, but Stiles really couldn’t blame him. The dude probably had a fever of over 100. Stiles went back into the bathroom in grabbed the trash can and water, then set them beside Derek, the glass on the bedside table and the can on the floor beside him. He untangled the bedsheets and carefully tucked them around the alpha, smoothing them with care. 

“I’m gonna go do those dishes, okay? I’ll be--”

“Stay,” Derek said quietly. 

“Stay?” Stiles asked, sure he had misheard.

“Please.” 

“I...okay,” Stiles said. He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, before pulling his shoes off. He hesitated for a second at the other side of Derek’s bed, but Derek’s soft, high whine caused him to crawl into the big bed, scooting closer to Derek but still wanting to give him space. Derek didn’t seem to care what Stiles wanted and pulled the younger man close to him, making himself the little spoon. Derek was hot to the touch, almost unbearably so, and when Stiles carded his hand comfortingly through his hair it came back wet. “Hey, I’m going to grab a towel, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Derek whined as he left the bed, but Stiles ran a towel under cold water and was back within a few minutes. “Here,” he said as he crawled back in, and he pressed the wet towel to the back of Derek’s neck. Derek moaned, his entire body tensing up and then relaxing. Stiles pressed the towel to Derek’s forehead, neck, chest, and cheeks, trying to cool the ‘wolf down. After a few minutes, his breathing evened out and Stiles figured he fell asleep. Derek was still shivering, so he pulled the large comforter from under the bed and covered him, despite the fact that it was early July. Stiles threw one more look back at Derek before grabbing his laptop from downstairs. He settled back into bed, laptop plugged into its charger as he perused the bestiary once more, running an absent minded hand along Derek’s back.

 

 

When Derek woke up, he was shivering violently. He also felt like he was taking a bath. Despite his body’s protests he opened his eyes to see that he was wrapped in thick blankets, and when he drew up his hand to wipe at the sweat on his face it was cold and clammy. He felt someone in his bed and tried to sniff out who it was, but couldn’t get any scent through his stuffy nose. He sniffled, trying to work up the energy to turn around. 

“Derek buddy, you awake?” 

He blinked. Oh, that was Stiles’s voice. Suddenly he remembered, in a moment of weakness and vulnerability, that he had asked Stiles to stay. And the human _had._ He felt something pleasant growing in his chest, but he didn’t have time to think about it before he tumbled into a coughing fit, and he wondered if he was going to have working lungs after this. Once he finished he saw Stiles reach over him to grab the wastepaper basket. The boy held it in front of him, and Derek took it, spitting his phlegm. He noticed that someone -- Stiles, probably -- had placed a box of tissues on his bedside table. He could barely breathe, let alone think of trying to knock some of that crud loose, so he just fell back against his pillow, setting the basket down by his bed again and breathing through his mouth.

“How are you feeling?” Stiles asked, and Derek huffed. 

“Worse,” he said, and he meant it. At least when he was throwing up he was actively doing something about the problem. Right now, he could feel the fever raging through his body, and he was aware but not too occupied with the fact that he hadn’t stopped shivering. He felt Stiles reach towards him again, and Stiles’s cool hand met his forehead and cheeks. He whined, taking a breath in through his mouth, and felt the mood change. 

“You feel hotter. Maybe we should call Deaton.”

“Mmm. Just fighting infection. M’alright.” Derek felt his words slurring, but he was too tired to hold a real conversation. And his throat hurt too much. Why was Stiles trying to have a conversation with him when his throat hurt so much? Derek opened his mouth to ask him, but devolved into another coughing fit, this one shaking his body violently. Stiles’s hand was immediately rubbing his back, and Derek waved him off. “M’fine, m’fine.” He coughed a few more times for good measure and then grabbed a tissue, spitting into it. “Don’t call Deaton. Older you are, reaction is more intense,” he explained, before snuggling back into the covers. Stiles was still rubbing his back, and Derek reached back to grab his hand and pull it forward against his chest, so Stiles was pressed right against his back.

There. This is how it should be. He fell asleep again, wishing he could breathe in the human’s scent.

 

 

Stiles didn’t even know he had fallen asleep until he was woken up by another coughing fit. Derek didn’t look amused, eyes bleary and comforter pressed strongly against his mouth as he tried to quiet his hacking. He noticed Stiles was awake and managed to slip out a, “Sorry,” before continuing his attack. Stiles wiped his eyes and sat up, rubbing Derek’s back again. Even after he finished coughing, him and Derek sat in that position, recovering. “Why d’you keep doin that?” Derek asked, sniffing. 

“Doing what?” Stiles asked absentmindedly, checking his emails.

“Rubbing,” Derek answered. 

Stiles stilled. “I’m sorry, I hadn’t even realized I was doing it.” He pulled his hand back. “I’ll stop, I’m so--”

“S’nice,” Derek shrugged wearily. “Jus’ wond’ring.” 

“Oh.” Stiles tentatively put his hand back on Derek’s damp back, swirling circles into it. “My mom used to do this to me whenever I was sick. It used to make me feel better, knowing she was there and that she loved me.”

Derek closed his eyes, looking like he was in pain. “Sorry,’ he mumbled.

Stiles chuckled. “No, it’s good. I like thinking about her. It’s happier now.”

Derek did his little snuffling thing again, looking annoyed that he couldn’t smell. “I don’t know how you d’it.”

“Do what?” Stiles hummed.

“Get sick all th’time. This sucks,” Derek put his head back in his hands.

Stiles chuckled again. “Sleep. Your pack wants you to get better.” 

 

 

Stiles did end up calling Deaton, but it was mostly because Stiles had no idea what you used to disinfect a house from a werewolf flu virus. So that was how Stiles found himself a few hours later, wiping a modified strain of liquified wolfsbane all over Derek’s bathroom with clorox wipes. He was close to finishing when he heard Derek’s impressively loud sneeze, and figured he had woken up again. Stiles finished up and then wandered into the bedroom again to see Derek sitting up in bed, looking annoyed at himself as he tried to blow his nose.

“How ya doin’?” Stiles asked amusedly. 

Derek huffed, sniffling. “When will this be over?” 

“Well, you’ve been sleeping for about four days, so maybe four more days of sniffles? Maybe longer?” 

Derek looked alarmed. “I’ve been...four days?” 

Stiles nodded, unconcerned. “I called into work for you, so that’s no problem. But yeah, you’ve been floating in and out of consciousness for about four days now.”

Derek wiped at his face, worry still creasing his brow. “How long have you been here?”

Stiles ignored him, grabbing his cleaning supplies. “How are you feeling?”

Derek scowled at his change in subject, but seemed to take inventory of himself. “Better, I guess. I can...think clearly now.”

“Good,” Stiles said. “We won’t let the pack come and see you for a little while though. Even though your fever broke I still don’t know how long this bug hangs around.” Stiles took the wipes and began wiping down door handles and the doors themselves, just to be sure. “You should probably shower, you kind of smell.”

Derek looked down at himself, wrinkling his nose. Stiles doubted he could smell himself, but he definitely looked like he felt gross. “Yeah, okay.” He stood, leaving his bed for the first time in the better part of a week and lumbered into the bathroom. Stiles heard the shower turn on and set his cleaning supplies down. He popped into the bathroom to grab Derek’s sick clothes, then took all the sheets and blankets off his bed. He bundled them into his arms and went downstairs to the laundry room, where he poured in detergent and some of the modified wolfsbane. Then he changed the sheets and finished disinfecting Derek’s room. 

The hot shower must have temporarily helped his sinuses, because when Derek walked out of the bathroom he wrinkled his nose. “What’s that?” 

“Werewolf flu disinfectant,” Stiles answered easily, throwing another wipe in the trashcan and then taking the bag out, tying it in one smooth motion. “Deaton told me how to make it.”

Derek paused. “Smart,” he said. “Thanks.” He walked over to his dresser, apparently ready to change, and Stiles slipped out, starting his disinfecting on the downstairs. He wasn’t as worried about the downstairs since Derek hadn’t spent much time there, but he still wiped down all the well-used surfaces. He looked up when he heard Derek making his way down the stairs. He was dressed in a sweatshirt and sweatpants and had the box of tissues in his hand, but he looked infinitely better.

“You hungry?” 

Derek nodded, taking a seat at the table. “You changed my sheets,” he said. “And you’re washing them.” 

Stiles nodded, moving around the kitchen as he made him and Derek eggs and toast. “They were pretty grimy, dude.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I wanted to,” Stiles said. 

“Why?” Derek asked, and it seemed like he didn’t mean for that to come out of his mouth, but he still looked at Stiles for an answer.

“Well--” Stiles started, then paused as Derek momentarily collapsed in a coughing fit into his elbow. After a minute, it seemed like he was good. “Derek, you do so much for this pack. You shouldn’t feel like you don’t deserve it when we do something nice for you.” Derek looked down at his hands, playing with his tissue box as the tips of his ears burned bright red. “It helped that I couldn’t get sick. And Lydia sure as hell wouldn’t have come over. She hates sick people.”

Derek shut down a little. “So you came since you were the only one who could?” 

Stiles sighed, annoyed at Derek’s selective hearing. “I came because I wanted to, Derek. Because I care about you. And I thought you might not want me here, but when you asked me to stay…” When he asked him to stay, a little piece of him broke, imagining Derek all alone. “I couldn’t say no because I didn’t want to say no.”

Derek looked pleased, refusing to make eye contact with him. “Oh,” he sniffled, ears red again. 

 

 

And at the next pack meeting, when the rest of the pack made fun of him during his sneezing fit, Stiles just took his hand and squeezed, and he knew everything was changing, and that it was going to be better than it ever had been before.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you liked my little fic! Please leave some love if you enjoyed :) xx


End file.
